


It's The Little Things

by orphan_account



Category: Reign (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-25
Updated: 2017-06-30
Packaged: 2018-09-02 05:07:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 16
Words: 17,724
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8652151
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: A collection of short stories exploring the relationship between Bash and Kenna. Cute/ slightly angsty one-shots showing how they grew to love each other.





	1. Eavesdropping (But not really. Well yes really. But not deliberately. It’s not her fault okay?)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Takes place near the start of season 1. Kenna is Henry's lover and has plans to be his mistress, but Mary and Francis are not married yet.

Kenna had not been at court long when she decided that she did not like the Valois boys. (Well, the Valois boy and the de Poitiers bastard, but to make it easier, she lumped them together in the same category). The Valois _man_ was a wonderfully different story, but the boys were arrogant, snooty, selfish brats. Anyone could see how Francis continued to shift Mary off to the side- clearly his word meant little to him. And the bastard was always giving everyone judgmental side-eyes. Except Mary. Mary he gazed at constantly and adoringly. It was a little creepy honestly. So she had already- before even having a conversation with either boy- decided she did not like them.

What sealed the deal for her though was a conversation not meant for her ears at all. Now, that's not to say that she was eavesdropping. She wasn't. Henry had summoned her late at night and she hadn't bothered to properly clothe herself- clothing certainly was not needed in Henry's bedchamber. When she had heard voices, she'd had no choice but to duck into a nearby alcove. And then, the brothers had refused to leave. She would not have listened if they had moved on. She would have left… maybe… well, it didn't matter because they didn't leave and she heard the whole thing.

“You should lay off her Francis. She's been living in a convent for the past decade.”

That was the admittedly attractive, but grumpy and titleless bastard. Sebastian she thought his name was. His brother, the Dauphin of France ( _there_ was a title) responded quite vehemently.

“I know! I'm trying to be patient but it's like she has no comprehension of politics at all. I know she needs this alliance sealed but we can't just blindly tie ourselves to a wounded country. As much as it may strengthen Scotland, it weakens France. And I can't have-”

“Yes I know. Seriously. Please don't say it again. I understand the untenable position she continues to force you into.”

Kenna smirked. As a bastard at court, he’d clearly mastered the #1 skill of speaking to those superior to oneself: veiled sarcasm. Sebastian continued, his voice quieter and already taking on the hopeless adoration that indicated that Mary was going to be discussed. “She’s smart Francis. She’ll get there in her own time. Be patient with her.”

“Honestly Bash, if I didn’t know you better, I’d swear you had feelings for my fiancée.” Francis’ laugh is forced and awkward, literally making Kenna cringe.

“But you do know me better.” Sebastian’s voice is hard and Kenna cringes again.

_Well, that was awkward…_

They are quiet for so long that she thinks they have left and starts to venture forth, when she hears her own name, sending her scurrying back into the shadows.

“You are aware that the Lady Kenna means to take your mother’s place?” Kenna cringed _again._ How did the Dauphin even know that?

“Which one is that again?”

“She came with Mary? Always with father? She’s gorgeous.” Kenna blushed in pleasure which immediately turned to outrage at the bastard’s response.

“Ohhh the annoying, bratty one?”

_Who was he calling bratty? What an arrogant little-”_

“Bash, be nice.” It must be mentioned that Francis did at least attempt to defend her.

“She flipped out on Cherise the other day. Freaked right out because there was a spot in her dress when it came back from the laundry. I’m sorry, but who exactly does she think she is? She’s a lady in Scotland. What exactly does that amount to?”

“She can’t help her privilege-”

“No. You know what? That’s how I was raised. I was taught that privileged people couldn’t help themselves. But you do. And Mary does. All I’m asking for is a little bit of courtesy.”

Kenna was vibrating with rage. She had _not_ “flipped out” on Cherise. She had had a teeny, tiny meltdown _near_ Cherise. And she had not mentioned one word about privilege. Why would he trust this random servant girl?

“Are you still nailing Cherise?”

Well, that made more sense.

“No!! I’m just saying!”

“Either way, you should probably be making the effort to stay in Father’s good graces. You might find yourself suddenly displaced.” Francis sounded genuinely concerned and Kenna felt a pang of remorse- which was immediately quenched by Sebastian’s response.

“Pff.” He laughed and Kenna dug her fingers into her palms to restrain her from launching around the corner and strangling him. “Let her try. Mother has been here for years. The “Lady Kenna” is not the first ambitious girl with an ample bosom who tried to keep father occupied. He needs a little more than a large chest, he prefers a woman who stimulates his brain also.”

Kenna was biting her lip to keep silent and had dug little half moons into her palms when he finally, _finally_ , stopped talking about her and bid Francis good night. She waited, shaking with repressed fury, until she heard Francis’ door close and Bash’s footsteps fade. Then she composed herself before entering Henry’s chambers, putting the bastard and his judgments from her mind.

She never forgot though. And when Greer came to her room, already crying, to inform her that she was to be wedded before God to the titleless bastard, it was the first thing she thought of: that for all her privilege and all her ambition and her “ample bosom”, she would end up in the same position that he occupied. She thinks he must be pleased by that.


	2. An Argument ( Despite Bash's best intentions- which were to not have an argument. But life had decided that it hated him, so.... )

Mary had been wearing red.

He had just been married at swordpoint to a woman he found more despicable than Queen Catherine, and yet all he could remember was that Mary had been wearing red.

He was in the stables apparently. He didn’t know when he had got there or even how. Everything felt unreal to him, as if he was walking in a fog.

 _“I, Sebastian, take this woman to be my lawful wife under the eyes of God from this day forward._ ” Had he said that? Why? Why would he have ever said that? Oh yes, his father was going to kill Kenna. Damn his insistence on being some noble hero! Where had it ever gotten him?

“Can I help you?” It was the senior stablehand. He had made it clear from the beginning that he looked down on Bash as inferior to himself. This time though, Bash finally had something the snooty man did not.

“I’m just here to check on _my_ horses. You might not have heard but they have been entrusted to me by the king himself.”

 _“Bash, I hereby declare you… the Master of Horse and Hunt.”_ He had a title for the first time in his life. Of course, it was a joke. But so was everything else about his life. Might as well use this to his advantage.

 _“Please! This is marriage. It can’t be undone-”_ Kenna had cried the entire ceremony. She had barely been able to choke her vow out and the instant it was done, she had dropped his hands and fled. Her friend, the Lady Greer, had rushed out after her. Mary had stayed though. She had stayed, her eyes locked with his own. ‘It is done,’ they seemed to say. ‘There is no way you and I will ever be together again.’ Only then did she turn and walk away, arm in arm with Francis.

He wasn’t sure he even cared anymore.

“Excuse me… um… Lord?” There was a guard walking toward him, clearly uncomfortable with the new title.

“Me?” Bash had never been called ‘Lord’ in his life.

“Yes… Lord. I believe the Lady Kenna requires your assistance in your chambers.”

“Ah. Yes. Of course. Thank you. You may… um… go return to your guarding of the… thing you… guard.”

“Thank you… Lord.”

_That was the most awkward conversation of the evening… which is saying something, considering I was summoned from my bed to marry my father’s mistress._

Bash tried so hard to behave civilly. He really did. He paused outside the door to his chambers and composed himself. He even thought of possible compliments he might give. Although, in his defense, he could not have even begun to guess what was behind the door.

She was standing by his bed, wrapped in her dressing gown, her nose wrinkled in distaste. And it was clear that she was naked underneath the gown.

Bash gave a strangled gasp, feeling his face and neck grow red. _What in the world is she doing? What am I supposed to say? Is she trying to seduce me?_

“Well?” Kenna placed her hands on her hips, causing the dressing gown to fall open. Bash suddenly became engrossed in the cobblestones lining the floor.

“Um yes? What exactly is it that you require?”

“If it’s not too much trouble, I wanted to get this done now. I’ve had a terrible evening and would like to get to sleep soon. Of course, if it is a problem, there isn’t much I can do about that, since I have no say about what happens to me.”

Bash flushed again, but this time with anger. She was acting like this was his fault, as if he was any more pleased by it than she was. And he still had no idea what was going on!

“I’m going to need you to clarify.”

“Ugh!” She dropped the robe and moved away, toward the bed he thought. He studiously refused to look up. “I would prefer to consummate now rather than later.” A thump echoed as she sat upon the bed and he finally understood what she was talking about.

“Wow! No. No. NO. We’re not um… we don’t need to… I don’t _want_ to even… um… consummate our marriage.”

“What the heck is that supposed to mean?” She stomped over toward him and the dressing gown was lifted from the floor so he dared to raise his eyes again. The gown was now tightly secured around her and, while not the best shield, provided enough cover. Her eyes were flashing at him in anger and he was overwhelmed by how ridiculous the entire situation was.

“Why in the world would I want to? Our marriage is a sham, I hardly even like you, you tried to have me killed, and whether we consummate it or not, it cannot be annulled while my father is alive. Why pretend when everyone knows the truth?”

“Well, most people would be grateful to spend a night with one like myself.”

“Yes! Everyone would love to spend a night with the gorgeous Lady Kenna. Which is precisely why I do not.”

“Did you just call me a whore?”

“If the dressing gown- or rather lack thereof- fits!”

A silence fell over the room. Her eyes widened almost imperceptibly in hurt, before they hardened and narrowed. She reminded him of the horses that came from abusive owners- which made him the abusive owner. Bash could have kicked himself.

“Well then. I apologize for my mistake. I think I shall retire to my chambers before they are taken from me. Unless there is anything else my husband should desire from his whore wife?”

This was the moment. This was when he apologized to her, and they were able to try to like each other. They were going to have to live together and he didn’t want to start it this way. This was the moment he should reach out to her. But he found himself unable to speak, and, after a pause, Kenna swept from the room, the door banging shut behind her.

Bash groaned before collapsing on his bed. Kenna had lit a torch before his arrival and the fire cast patterns on the wall opposite him: stripes of orange and gold and red.

Mary had been wearing red.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here is the second one! It's wonderfully melodramatic and still super angsty. Fluff soon!
> 
> Takes place directly after s1e16 "Monsters"


	3. Meltdown (I mean, kind of.... Meltdown seems like an unnecessarily harsh word. Really it was just a brief loss of control. And only Bash saw. So it doesn't count.)

“Kenna! Mary has summoned all of us to her rooms.”

Kenna groaned inwardly. She just wanted to go to sleep. It had been yet another long day, filled with her pretending to ignore the gossip that followed her like a shadow. Not to mention that the last of her things had just been unceremoniously dumped into Bash’s chambers. She just wanted to climb into a bed- even if it was not her own- and cry.

“Kenna? Are you okay? Do you want me to wait for you?” The door creaked open as Greer’s voice grew louder.

“No! I will be right there. I'm just… in a state of undress. Go on without me and give my apologies to Mary. Tell her I'm on my way.”

“Alright? If you're sure….” The door thudded shut and Greer’s hesitant footsteps moved away toward Mary’s chambers.

Kenna sighed, willing the prick of tears to wait just a little longer. She started to re-tie her corset but couldn't get ahold of one of the middle ties. It seemed to be caught on something. She craned her head over her shoulder, trying to unhook it, but she couldn't see where it was or what it was caught on.

She opened her mouth, intending to call for a servant, but instead found herself giving a frustrated yell. “It's not fair,” she screamed at nobody in particular. And it really wasn't. She had done everything right. She was young and fertile and beautiful… and her life might as well be over. She would rather be married to an inconsiderate brute than a man who just ignored her existence- in private and public. It was lonely and humiliating and not fair!

In a fit of rage reminiscent of the young princes, Kenna slammed her hand against the stone wall. The impact vibrated through her hand and up her arm, leaving it numb for a second before a throbbing pain set in.

And that was the moment that Bash walked in. He took one look at her: cradling her hand, in her half-open corset, and biting her lip in pain… and then he walked out.

It was as if someone had doused her with water. She slumped against the stupid wall, grimacing with pain, and closed her eyes. There was no point to her tantrum. It wouldn't change anything. She was just going to have to learn to live like this.

The door creaked again and Kenna whirled around. Bash was walking toward her, wrapping some snow in a linen cloth. His face was red and his hands shook a little, but he kept walking, eyes trained on her face.

Kenna blinked back tears and attempted to compose herself. _Is that for me?_

“The wall?”

“Pardon?” Kenna took a step toward him in confusion.

“You punched the wall?”

Kenna flushed. _How did he know?_

Bash grinned. “I did the exact same thing yesterday morning.”

Kenna hissed as Bash placed the snow in contact with her swollen hand, then restrained a gasp as he gently turned her to face away from him, his rough fingers skimming over her hot skin.

“One of the ties is hooked back here.” It was actually a little disconcerting how deft his fingers were with her complicated corset.

Kenna pressed the snow tighter to her hand, concentrating on not letting her skin break out in goosebumps at every brush of his fingers as he tied her corset. “Yes. I know. I tried to get it but I couldn't see back there.”

“They can be difficult even when you're able to see the ties.” He finished tightening it and rested his calloused hands on her smooth shoulders. Kenna had no idea what was going on right now, but she was surprisingly very okay with it. She tried to think of a way to keep him there with her- a way to meet him in the middle. _I know! I could display an interest in his life._ She really had no idea what he did all day long by himself.

“What have you been up to today?”

She could feel him stiffen, before he stepped away from her and crossed the room to sit on the bed. She felt cold without him.

“I,” he cleared his throat and adopted a nonchalant tone. “I was with Mary.”

It was Kenna’s turn to stiffen and walk away. She stood behind the dressing screen and attempted to put her dress back on with shaking fingers. She willed her voice not to tremble before responding, “Oh?”

He continued speaking but she couldn't hear him over the roaring in her ears. Why _did_ she care so much? She didn't care for Bash- she hated him! And yet… for just a moment, she had seen something different. They could grow together, come to care for each other, maybe even have a child. The whispers and critical side-eyes would go away and she might find a type of happiness. And good lord, if that didn't have na ïve, idealistic, little-girl Kenna written all over it! Every time she thought she had quenched that stupid little girl, she popped right back up, and the disappointment hurt more each time because of it.

She slid into her shoes and headed for the door, with a breezy “I’ve got to go see Mary myself. I will return soon.”

“Kenna.” He caught her arm and searched her eyes pleadingly. _What does he want from me? Some sort of absolution?_

“Just… don't.” She hated the waver in her voice. _“When are you going to learn men aren't interested in a girl who doesn't know her place, you stupid girl?”_ She shook her father’s voice from her head and gave Bash a cold look, ignoring the way his face fell, before exiting the room.

She forced herself to keep her head high as she walked past all the ladies attempting to conceal the fact that they were gossiping about her yet again. She acted as if she did not know that the girls had been discussing her when she was announced to Mary's chambers. And if Mary herself seemed unable to meet her eye, well then, Kenna pretended not to notice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter takes place again after s1e16 "Monsters" but before s1e17 "Liege Lord". Their story moves so quickly so I'm trying to add some moderation to it. Bash is obviously not cheating on Kenna with Mary but she believes that he is. I personally feel like the reality of Bash's feelings for Mary would have presented a barrier between the two, even if it was not openly acknowledged.


	4. A Pleasant Interaction (Well it was, okay? I mean, just because it shouldn't have been, doesn't mean it wasn't. You can't ignore the facts.)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kenna is moving furniture and Bash takes it upon himself to help. (Mostly to prevent her from killing herself)

“Back so soon?” The guard at the gate laughed good-naturedly as Bash approached. He had ridden off barely an hour before and the guards knew he often stayed out in the Blood-wood quite late. In fact, he himself couldn’t remember the last time he had been at the castle this early in the day. Actually, he could. It was when he was the “prince”, destined to wed Mary….

 _Let's not follow that line of_ thought.

“I’ve got a terrible headache this morning.”

The man snorted as he gave the order to raise the portcullis. “You’re a hero to us all.”

Bash smiled at the jibe before dismounting, leaving his horse with the snooty stablehand. He rubbed his temples, already looking forward to collapsing in his bed and sleeping for the next 12 hours. He had slept in it the night before- for the first time since his impromptu marriage. He had basically lain awake all night though, terrified of stealing the blankets or rolling over onto Kenna or muttering something stupid in his sleep. They had agreed to try to be friends after he had falsely accused Kenna of being a whore _again_. He still flushed when he thought of how wrong he had been.

_You think I went to the king’s chambers for fun? He’s lost his mind! I was terrified the whole time I was with him!_

_Then why did you go to him?_

_For Mary!_

For Mary? How could Mary ask that of Kenna- his wife? Hadn’t she suffered enough at the king’s hands? Wasn’t there anyone else Mary could have recklessly endangered? He had been surprised at how angry it had made him.

Still, he had accused her of something quite unforgivable twice now. He was determined to be better- he was going to protect her and he was going to genuinely get to know her before making any more damaging assumptions about her character. He was terrified of doing or saying anything- even a stray murmured word in sleep- that would jeopardize their newfound peace.

He opened the door to his room, already half asleep, before stopping short. Kenna, her hair piled atop her head and her skirt hiked halfway up her legs, was attempting to lift his large, wooden wardrobe by herself- and not doing a very good job of it either. Her arms were literally trembling from the strain.

Bash scoffed in disbelief as he sprinted over to shove her out of the way. He lowered the wardrobe gently to the floor before turning on her.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

She pouted at him. _She’s acting as if I’ve taken away her favorite toy instead of saved her life! Quite heroically I might add._

“You _said_ I could bring my own wardrobe here. I was making room for it.”

“Kenna!” Bash pinched the bridge of his nose in exasperation. This woman would be the death of him, he was sure of it. “ _I_ can barely lift this thing… and I have been jousting with my father since I could walk. You could have been killed!”

“All the better for you,” Kenna muttered as she flounced away.

He caught her though, gripping her upper arms firmly through the thin lace of her gown. “No! Not all the better for me! We agreed we were going to try to like each other and we agreed that I was going to protect you which means no lifting huge pieces of furniture by yourself. Okay?” Somehow his voice had softened and his hands had slid up to cup her face. He realized he was caressing her cheek. What was it about this woman? Even when she wasn’t driving him crazy… she was driving him crazy.

He cleared his throat and pulled his hands away. “Okay Kenna?”

“Okay.” Her voice was soft and her pupils were dilated. _What’s going on right now? We’re aiming for friends and you love Mary!_

Mary. Right. He cleared his throat again. “Okay. Good. Just let me know next time. I can help.”He turned back to the wardrobe and drew his shirt over his head. “Where did you want this?”

Bash forgot his headache over the next hour as he completely rearranged his chambers to Kenna’s satisfaction. And he had to admit: her way looked much better.

When the last table had been moved, Bash turned to face Kenna. His thoughts disappeared though when he saw her. She was sitting cross legged on the bed, eyes wide, breathing heavy, and pupils dilated again.

He found that he wanted to see what would happen if he pushed her a little bit. He refused to analyze the motivations behind that inclination. Instead, he dropped his voice an octave and started walking slowly toward her. “Does it meet the expectations of the Lady Kenna de Poitiers?”

She swallowed hard, raising her eyes to his with difficulty. “It’s very satisfactory Sebastian de Poitiers.”

Her eyes fluttered shut as he leaned in towards her. _Wait. Why was he leaning in towards her? Why was- oh screw it! Who cares?_

His lips had just brushed hers when… “There you are Kenna! Lola has- oh! Oh my goodness, I… I’m sorry um… sorry.”

Mary continued to stammer in the doorway while Bash cursed himself for opening it to let in some air in the first place. But why? He should want to be near Mary, shouldn’t he? He should want to be in her presence. Yet, right now at least, he definitely didn’t… He could feel the headache returning.

Kenna gritted her teeth before giving a brilliant if completely fake smile to the still stuttering Mary. “Haha silly me! I completely forgot all about Lola’s wedding preparations. Be right there.”

Mary beat a hasty retreat and Kenna groaned before grabbing his hand and using it as leverage to pull her to her feet. “Duty calls.” She gave him a far more genuine smile before following after Mary. Right before she left the room though, she stopped and lightly ran back. Hopping up onto her toes, she pressed a warm kiss to his cheek. “Thank you Bash.” Then she was gone.

Bash stood beside the bed, alone and more confused than ever. He wanted to be Kenna’s _friend_. He hadn’t bargained on this. He didn’t know what to do with this. What did it all mean when taken into consideration with his feelings for Mary? He didn’t want this…

Even so, when Kenna scooted closer to him that night and laid her head against his chest, he found himself slipping his arms around her and pulling her closer. And he slept better that night than he had since Mary had first come to court.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back! Chapter 5 is on the way, writer's honour- depending how much stock you put in that...


	5. A Less Than Pleasant Interaction (Which got significantly better when Bash showed up)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kenna deals with unwanted advances... and then Bash does.  
> Warning for slight assault in this chapter. Bash shows up to rescue her so it's all good but... I feel like it would be wrong of me to ignore the reputation Kenna would have gotten as a former mistress and how that would have impacted her life.

Greer’s squeal echoed around the chamber as she grabbed Kenna’s left hand excitedly. “Let me see it!” As she laid eyes on the small and simple ring gracing Kenna’s finger though, her mouth abruptly closed and she very visibly scrambled for something to say. “Wow… I, uh… I thought that, I mean, didn’t… I thought Diane de Poitiers came from money?”

Kenna laughed. “That’s exactly what I said! He was very offended. But… I don’t know, I guess maybe _sometimes_ the prettiest jewels actually aren’t as important as the thought behind the action.”

Greer gaped at her. “Okay. Who are you and what have you done with Kenna?”

“Hey! I’m just saying that… I like it. You know, he went out of his way to get me a ring that clearly has familial meaning. I don’t know, Greer! I just really like it…”

Greer softened. “That’s good Kenna. I was just teasing. Who am I to talk about something like this? Sometimes the best goods come in very modest packages….” Greer’s voice trailed off and she sighed.

Kenna laid a gentle hand on her shoulder. “I’m sorry Greer. I know you still miss Leith. I didn’t mean to remind you of him.”

Greer shook off her hand. “That’s enough of this sadness! Especially when I am so happy for you! I really think you guys could make this marriage work. Who knows? Maybe being forced to marry Bash will be the best thing that ever happened to you.”

Kenna smiled. “Maybe not the best thing, but… I have hope it could be a good one.”

Greer and Kenna stayed in Greer’s chambers for hours, talking and gossipping with each other like they hadn’t in ages. When Kenna finally left, the sun was long gone and her heart felt light and happy. She practically skipped on her way back to her own chambers, hoping Bash was home by now.

She was almost there when she saw a man stumbling toward her. As he got closer, she realized that it was Lord Roquelaure- a man infamous for his less than respectful treatment of women. And he was clearly inebriated.

Kenna looked around but there the dark castle passages were deserted at this time of night. She squared her shoulders and resolved to walk past him as quickly as possible. She had just passed him, already exhaling a sigh of relief, when a clammy hand snatched her wrist.

“Well, isn’t it my lucky day? The king’s discarded mistress. Exactly the sort of woman I was looking for.”

“You’ll have to excuse me, my Lord. I need to get back to my _husband_. He’ll be wondering where I am."

His grip only tightened as he crowded her against the cold stone wall. “Oh right. He married you to his bastard. Well, I’m sure the bastard won’t mind if you’re a little late.”

“Actually,” she tried to slide out from under him but he pressed her harder against the wall, pinning her there with his hips, “I’m already very late. He’s probably out looking for me.”

“Oh? Indeed?” His hot breath, reeking of wine, was her only warning before his mouth covered hers in a sloppy kiss.

“Get off!” She shoved him away. “I am flattered by your attentions but uninterested.”

He laughed, but it lacked any humor. “Is that what you told the king?” He moved in again, this time with more menace, and she panicked. She launched out with her fist, feeling it connect with flesh, before running down the hallway, cradling her throbbing hand. Without warning, she crashed into yet another muscled body. She screamed and fought the arms holding her in place.

Steadily though, a familiar voice filtered through the haze of adrenaline and fear. “Kenna? Are you okay? Talk to me, Kenna.”

“Bash?” She gasped his name before burying her face in his chest. He held her shaking body to his, whispering meaningless soothing words into her hair. Finally, she lifted her face to his. “I’m sorry for this. I’m not usually such a mess.”

“What happened?” His concern is genuine and his fingers are gentle against her bruised hand as she shoves her face against his chest again.

“There were just some unwanted advances and I kinda lost control and… accidentally punched him… in the face, I think….” She looks down in embarrassment at her distinctly unladylike behavior. She is surprised to feel his chest shaking, and when she looks back up at him, she realizes he is laughing.

She feels a little annoyed at that. “There’s no need to laugh! I just panicked, okay?”

He frames her face in his hands and grins. “I hope you broke his nose.”

“What?” Kenna was surprised, but she supposed it made sense- he _was_  a bastard.

“Just one thing,” he raised her hand and probed at her thumb as she winced, “You have to keep your thumb outside of the fist. You probably broke it. I’ll take a look when we get to our room.”

As they walked back toward their chambers that Kenna had run straight past in her terror, they could see the Lord slumped against the wall, his hand over his left eye. Bash squeezed her hand and whispered “Black eye works too.”

Lord Roquelaure rose to his feet and stumbled toward them drunkenly. “Your wife tell you about our little encounter?”

Bash stepped in front of her and answered him. “She told me enough, so unless you want another facial decoration, I suggest you walk away.”

“I’m sure she tweaked the story a little bit in her uncalled for hysteria," the man sneered.

“Are you calling my wife a liar?” The Lord was quiet. “That’s what I thought.” Bash turned to enter their chambers.

“I’m just warning you to watch your back. Once a whore, always a whore.” Kenna winced and without warning, Bash clenched his fist, whirled around and socked the Lord right in the nose.

Kenna gasped as Bash turned back to her. “You okay?”

She nodded and he pulled her into a tight embrace. “I promised I’d protect you and that includes from accusations against your character.”

When he released her, she slid inside their chambers, throwing a smirk back at him. “Bash?”

He paused in the doorway, his eyebrow raised questioningly. “Yes Kenna?”

“ _You_ definitely broke his nose.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm gonna stop pretending that more is coming all the time. I will update it as I update it but I promise that I WILL finish it. Thanks for your guy's patience. :)


	6. A Push (And one Bash had never experienced before either. A terribly annoying push really, but perhaps one that he needed... or, at least, one that they needed)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bash has a meltdown this time but Kenna refuses to let him isolate himself as per usual.

Francis’ concern was a tangible presence in the room. Bash could see him out of the corner of his eye, opening his mouth as if to say something and then closing it again. Any other day, Bash would give him a fake grin to reassure him. Today though, Bash was in a foul mood. It’s not like he needed Francis’ permission to leave the castle- Francis wasn’t king yet.

Instead, he jerks his arm from Francis’ worried grasp. “May I go now?”

Francis sighs. “If you’re certain nothing’s wrong….”

“I am. Thank you.” Bash walks on stiff legs toward the door, moving quicker as he heard Mary and her ladies approaching. The last thing he needed right now was to face Kenna again.

He felt an angry flush form at the thought of his altercation with her this morning, and he let the side door slam loudly behind him. He took a deep breath of the cold courtyard air before breaking into a light jog in the direction of the lake. He perched on the stone wall in his usual spot before taking out the wineskin he'd nicked earlier.

He should be out pursuing The Darkness. That would be a productive use of his guilt and anger. _Oh well,_ he thought as he took a long drink of the mulled wine, _nobody ever said I made good life choices._

He could hear footsteps approaching and he tried to pinpoint them. Too light for Francis but they weren’t Mary’s either….

“It's a little early for that, don't you think?” Kenna primly sat down beside him, before grabbing the referenced wine and taking a drink herself. It's eerily similar to the first time he and Mary kissed. Back before he betrayed Francis- however sincerely he might have done it- before he’d had his heart broken by Mary, before Rowan, before Kenna- Bash is suddenly angry and, without really thinking about it, he snatches the wineskin from her hands and hurls it into the middle of the lake.

Silence descends over the pair, broken only by the soft sound of the bubbles made by the sinking wineskin. Kenna’s huff breaks it as she turns toward him and stabs an accusatory finger against his chest. “Okay. You are allowed to have a breakdown and you are allowed to be grumpy. What you are not allowed to do is isolate yourself from the people who care about you! You have to talk to someone about whatever this is!”

“Oh no, I have no desire to bother the great Lady Kenna with my poor, bastard problems.” He throws the words at her, inserting as much venom as he can.

She scoffs before shaking her head and sliding off the wall to walk away.

He’s watching her out of the corner of his eye, so he can see the exact moment she changes her mind. She freezes and squares her shoulders before whirling around and marching back to him.

“Too bad!”

“What?” He’s caught off guard by her sudden fury.

“Too. Bad. I am your _wife_ and apparently the only person unwilling to let you brood all alone and hurt others in your broodiness. So pretend I'm somebody else if that helps! But please tell me what is going on!” Her face softens and she jumps up beside him again to lay a hand on his shoulder. “You have been doing everything that you can to protect and defend me- don't think I haven't noticed that. Let me return the favour.”

He turned to look at her then. Her hair was wild from the wind and her eyes were soft. She was the exact opposite of the Kenna he thought he knew and was quickly realizing he was very wrong about.

He sighed loudly, but began to talk. “I don't know how much you know about what happened with me after Mary and before us.”

She scoots closer to him, leaning her head back against his chest. “Not very much honestly. Tell me.”

He wraps his arms around her and rests his head on hers as he continues. “I left. I had to get away from Mary and Francis and so I fled into the woods. I met a family there- a girl actually.” He tried to gauge any response in Kenna’s body language. Finding nothing, he continued. “Her name was Rowan. And I cared about her- not the way I should have and not the way she deserved- but I did care for her. She helped me to stop thinking about Mary and how hard my life was and to think of something bigger… and she made me smile….”

He trails off and they sit in silence until he feels Kenna’s restrained shiver. He lifts her from the cold stone and sits her on his warm lap, shifting her to rest against him and tightening his arms around her again. “Anyway, the point of the story is that she was taken. The Darkness took her. Francis and I found her severed hand- the very day I married you actually. And I... don't know how to cope well with guilt and regret. So I take it out on the people that least deserve it and then... I brood. I know I need to be better, but-”

“So basically,” her voice cuts through his speech, “you had just lost two women you cared for right before you were forced to marry a woman you hardly knew? Oh Bash! I'm so sorry.…”

He hugs her tighter, shocked at her response. “No, Kenna! _I_ am sorry. For everything but especially for the way I treated you this morning.”

She just turns in his arms and wraps her own tightly around him. “I forgive you. Please forgive me too.”

“There is nothing to forgive," he whispers into her hair before adding, “But I do forgive you, and I will continue to do so. We said we needed to give this a try and I’m still willing if _you_ will still have me after my behavior this morning.”

She raised her face to his and laughed. “Of course I will, you fool.” The harsh words are countered by the soft pressure of her lips on his.

They had kissed for the first time the night before after Kenna had told him how his ring gave her a feeling of certainty. This kiss was different though. It was softer, quicker, gentler- it was a promise. This was _his_ certainty.

He lowered her to the ground and walked hand-in-hand with her to the castle. She separated from him at the main door with another peck on his lips while he continued to the side door he had first exited from.

As he entered, he saw Francis and Mary race away from the door, clearly pretending that they had no idea he would be there (despite it being painfully obvious that they had been watching him and Kenna).

He smirked. “Hi guys. What have you been up to this fine morning?”

Their stammered excuses faded away as they realized he was fully aware what exactly they had been up to. Then, a wide grin split Francis’ face and Mary squealed before launching herself into his arms.

“Oh Bash! I'm so happy for you!”

And as Mary pulled away from him and returned to Francis’ side, Bash thought that if he himself wasn't quite happy yet, then he was pretty darn close.


	7. An Unexpected Confession (But not unwanted. A very wanted confession actually. You could almost call it a turning point)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The morning after. (Because we deserved this)

Kenna was sore. That was the first thing she became aware of as the sunlight filtered into her consciousness. The second was that there was a leg slung over hers and the third was that she wasn't wearing a stitch of clothing. Only then did the memories of the night before pour in- or rather, the day _and_ night before.

Like seriously- not that Kenna was complaining at all- but didn't Bash have some horses to be tending to or some hunt to be conducting? They had virtually wasted an entire day... or spent it in the best way possible. It really depended on how you looked at it.

She stretched and turned to look at the man softly snoring beside her. He was sleeping on his stomach with his right leg thrown over her and his hands balled underneath him. His head was turned toward her and she gazed at his sleeping face- so unlike any she had ever seen on him. This was not his iconic scowl or his trademark thoughtful brooding face nor even the rare smirk she had been privileged to see. This was peace. His face was smooth, void of the ever-present worry lines and his lips were just slightly upturned, making him look as if he was smiling a little. He looked young and content.

Kenna's heart swelled just looking at him, in a way that it had not since the birth of her younger brother. Overcome by this, she leaned forward and impulsively kissed the tip of Bash’s nose.

He wrinkled it and sleepily blinked his eyes open in response. Seeing her, he smiled- a genuine smile- and rolled over, pulling her to rest against his chest.

She could have laid there all day, her head gently rising and falling with his every breath and his calloused fingers tracing nonsensical patterns along her bare back. But he suddenly sighed and his fingers stilled before he said, “I suppose I owe you an explanation for last night.”

Kenna froze internally. Externally though? She'd spent her entire life pretending the words of men didn't hurt her- she had a lot of practice. “I don't think so, no. I'm your wife. That's my job. I hope I was pleasing to you?” She tried to rise and exit the bed with at least some of her dignity intact, but he quickly sat up, caught her hands, and pulled her to face him.

“Don't do that. That's not what I meant. I didn't- I meant that… when I came back… and what you said to me. I think if we're gonna stand a chance- and I really want us to- we need to address... it.”

She flushed at the reminder of what she had said to him the night before. _Am I the only one in this bed with something to forget?_ She didn't want to address it. It was one thing to suspect- an entirely different thing to hear it from the mouth of the man she… was coming to intensely care for.

“I saw Mary with Francis.”

And wow, did that hurt so much more than she thought it would. She made her voice sound light and nonchalant as she answered him, though, “Yeah, I assumed as much. That's fine. Thanks for telling me.” She tried to leave again.

Just like before though, he caught her and pulled her back. “Would you just? Stop. Just stop. Let me finish.”

She settled back on the bed, wrapping the sheet tightly around her as if it could protect her suddenly aching heart, and gestured for him to continue.

“I realized- truly realized for the first time- that it had always been Francis for Mary. I had only ever been a substitute for her. Looking at them and how happy they were together was a grievous blow to my pride and the last shreds of anything other than brotherly affection that I hold for Mary. I admit that I didn't deal with it well. But when you stopped me and forced me to remember that you were- _are-_  my wife… I realized something else. I have the opportunity for that right here. I can find that same happiness and I think that I could find it with you.”

Silence descends over the room as he looks up to nervously meet her eyes. “I’m done now.”

She couldn't stop the smile spreading across her face even if she wanted to. His answering smile is hesitant but genuine again and she laughs loudly. “Quick everyone! Mark this day! The king’s broody bastard is actually smiling.”

“Shh! People are surely still in bed at this early hour.”

“Hear ye! Hear ye!” She breaks off into giggles as he grabs her waist with one hand and covers her mouth with the other. She lets herself fall against him with a dramatic sigh and he moves his hands, slipping them around her instead, and shakes his head down at her fondly.

“You are ridiculous, you know that?”

She just gives him a mock innocent smile in response.

“You haven't really said anything yet.” His tone is serious and his smile disappears so she leans up to poke his cheeks until he grins again.

“Well, I tried, good sir, but some barbarian stifled my words.”

“Seriously Kenna.”

Her own smile fades as she sits up and kisses him. “Well, I’m still here, aren't I?”

His smile widens at that and she laughs as she kisses him again. “My schedule’s pretty open for the next little while. I figure it's high time I started looking for happiness too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I HAD to get a small reference to the Master of Horse and Hunt in there. Because it is possibly my favorite line in the entire show....  
> Reviews, comments, kudos etc. welcome


	8. A Secret Story (From most people, at least. Definitely from Catherine. She must never know.)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A little look into what it must have been like for Francis and Bash growing up together and the miracle of their friendship.

The snooty stablehand inclined his head respectfully when Bash came to visit the horses now. Not that it mattered- Bash still didn't like him.

“Can I be of any assistance, sir?”

“No. Go away.”

The ridiculous man bowed yet again before leaving Bash alone with the horses.

This was easily his favourite place in the world. He loved being out among the horses. Their calm acceptance of him and the surety of their continued presence was often the one thing that provided him any comfort.

In fact, the old barn still bore the marks of his frequent visits- first as a lonely child. then an angry young adult, and quite recently, a sullen old one. The closest stall door was crooked from when he used to swing on it while telling the horses stories loud enough to drown out the angry sobs from his mother's chambers. There were still splintered holes in the wall from when he’d punched it again and again and again, the sounds of shattering glass and the slap of hands that he had actually kissed landing on his mother's skin refusing to stop echoing in his ears. Even some of the piles of hay were still rumpled from the many nights he had spent here, imagining that the scent of Mary still lingered in the air.

He’d had his best and worst moments in this barn. The stable was more of a home for him than French Court and the horses more his family than the Valois one had ever been- or the de Poitiers one for that matter.

He began to dole out hay for the horses. He’d interrupted Sir Snooty in this task and had promised to finish the job for him. As he worked, he began to sing an old folk song that his mother used to whistle when they went into town together. It's a rowdy song and can really only be sung if accompanied by a racket.

Which is why he’s leaping about, knocking the pitchfork rhythmically against the stalls, and singing at the top of his lungs when he is stopped short by the sight of Kenna leaning against the back wall and watching him with a soft smirk on her face.

He is breathing heavily, frozen in the middle of the barn, and he can literally feel the blush rising in his cheeks. “Um… how long have you been quite creepily watching me?”

She laughs before crossing the dirt floor to join him. “I wasn’t creepily watching you! I just wanted to see what you did out here all the time and I must say… I am not disappointed.”

“I don’t often do that. I just… I’m having a good day.”

“And good days mean dancing obviously.”

“Obviously.”

She veers off before she reaches him, starting to explore the barn. “It’s so cozy in here. Smelly but- ooh stairs!” She breaks off in the middle of her sentence and starts clomping up the old rickety stairs to the hayloft, making enough noise to startle all the horses.

“Would you get down from there before you break your leg?” Even as the words left his mouth, he heard a thud and then a cry from her.

“Kenna?” He’s running for the stairs before the echo of his voice fades away, vaguely wondering when the threat of danger to her became such a terrifying prospect to him. She’s huddled at the top, cradling her elbow with one hand while sucking on the pointer finger of the other one. “Are you okay?”

She rolls her eyes before removing the finger and sighing. “I’m fine Bash. I just cut my finger on something and then whacked my elbow against the wall when I jerked away. Both wounds have been suffered and survived before.”

She clambers up into the loft, ignoring his outstretched hand and concerned expression. “I’m fine Bash. Calm down.”

“Well, excuse me for being worried. Francis broke his leg right here you know!”

She freezes and turns to look at him. “Really?”

“Has anybody ever told you that you’re an incurable gossip?” Despite the words, he sits down in the hay with her while she pouts at him. “Maybe I’m just an invested wife who wants to learn more about her husband’s story.”

“Then you must be quite bored. It’s a terrible story.”

A hint of bitter truthfulness must sneak into his voice because she takes his hand and squeezes it. “It’s _your_ story. Which means that not only is it absolutely not a terrible story but it is one I very much want to hear.”

“Well, all you’re getting out of me right now is the story of Francis being an idiot.”

“I’ll wait.” The raw sincerity in her voice is replaced by her childlike pleasure at the thought of gossip so quickly that he almost thinks he imagined it- almost. “Now!” She claps her hands. “Tell me about Francis.”

“Well… Francis and I weren’t close when we were growing up. In fact, we were mortal enemies.” He chuckles self deprecatingly. “Okay not really. But he’d been raised to see me as a threat and I’d been raised to resent him- it felt like mortal combat to two young boys.”

Kenna grins. “I can see it.”

“Anyway, for some reason that nobody truly understands, my father always preferred me to Francis as we grew up. And when I was 11, he got in a terrible fight with my mother one night, which ended in him calling me a bastard. Now I’d heard the title before obviously, spoken in hushed tones as if it was dirty, hurled at me as if it was an accusation… But… I don’t know Kenna, I was 11 and a lot stupider than I am now, and I really thought that he loved me so it hurt hearing it from him you know? It’s one thing to have people tell you that you have no father but to hear it from the man you identified as being in that role himself… I was upset. I ran off to the woods and actually made it three days before being captured and returned to my mother. She talked to him on my behalf and because for some reason he always liked me, he tried to make amends by giving me Gypsy.” He stood up, lacing his hand through hers, and took her to the edge of the loft so he could point out the horse in question.

“Oh. She’s such a snob. I love it.”

“You would.” He takes the anticipated swat from her before finishing the story. “I adored Gypsy. Never quite forgave King Henry, but I adored Gypsy. Francis did too. He confronted me about the whole stupid Henry caring enough about my feelings to buy me a horse mess thing up here in the loft one day and we got into a bit of a fight over her. We hadn’t actually spent time alone together since we were very small and to this day Catherine regrets letting him out of her sight. Anyway, I lost my head and shoved him.”

Kenna gasps and Bash chuckles. “I’m not even done yet. He fell. He fell out of the loft.”

Kenna gasps again. “Bash! How are you even alive? Marie de Guise would have had my head if I had done something like that to Mary.”

“Well, I’m sure I would also be dead if Catherine had heard of it. But I don’t believe Francis has ever told her and I certainly haven’t. You see, if we had been just a little older, I’m sure the hatred would have been sufficiently inbred and we would have been far more “mature”. But we were young boys. And when two young boys realize they can fall from the hayloft into the actual hay piles below without getting hurt… all enmity must be set aside to discover exactly how high this pile can be made and who has the best tricks.”

Kenna laughed. “Seriously?”

“Absolutely. We spent all afternoon doing this- probably close to 4 hours. Somewhere in there Francis had the brilliant idea of seeing exactly how much hay was needed before one started to sustain injuries. I’m sure you can see where this is going…”

“He didn’t use enough and managed to break his leg?”

“Exactly. _But_ it was the real beginning of an amicable relationship between us. He fed his mom some cock and bull story about how I actually saved him and it could have been so much worse or something. Either way, my life got significantly better, and I’ve never forgotten it. I always tell Gypsy that she is the real reason I haven’t been killed or exiled yet. Especially as I have fallen out of favour with King Henry… I don’t know where I would be without Francis’ friendship.”

After a moment of comfortable silence, Kenna turned to leave. “I should go check on Mary. I didn’t mean to be as long as I was. Thank you for sharing that with me, Bash.”

He turned to begin his own descent, when he heard her call back.

“Bash? Don’t think the cute story has made me forget the singing. I will _never_ forget the singing.” He gets to the bottom of the stairs just in time to see her lift her eyebrows challengingly before turning to leave.

“She’s really something, isn’t she?” Bash turns to see the stable hand gazing after her admiringly. _She really is._ “I thought I told you to go away?”

“Sorry sir. I-”

“Never mind. I’m leaving anyway.” He turns on his heel and strides past the man, hitting him with his shoulder on the way past and sending him stumbling back into a pile of manure.

_I don’t even feel bad. If he wants cleans boots, then he shouldn’t check out my wife right in front of me. And the man really is an intolerable snoot._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Halfway there...


	9. A Terrible Day (But then there was chocolate. Need I say any more?)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kenna isn't feeling well and Bash knows there is only one solution

Kenna woke up with the sure knowledge that she was bleeding. She also woke up with the worst pains she had ever had.

She rolled over, groaning aloud. Bash was just pulling his boots on and turned at the noise. “Everything okay over there?”

She attempted to rise and groaned again at the stab of pain that it brought. “No. It's really not. I’m dyyyyyiiiinng.”

She flung her arms out as she elongated the final word and the extra momentum sent her spinning off the bed. She landed in a pile of rumpled sheets and moaned yet again. She heard Bash’s chuckle right before he picked her up and deposited her back into the bed.

“Seriously Kenna. Are you okay?”

“It’s a girl thing Bash. You wouldn’t understand.”

“Oh.” He clears his throat and rubs the back of his neck awkwardly. “It’s that um… no yeah, I understand. Do you want me to… get… someone?” He reaches toward her and then, apparently thinking better of it, pulls away at the last second.

She starts laughing at that. “God Bash, it’s not contagious!”

“I know that! I’m just trying to be helpful!” He turns toward the door. “I’ll see if I can find someone better suited to your needs.” His walking is stiff and she knows she should apologize, but she doesn't. _He doesn’t need to be such a baby. At least his body isn’t actively trying to kill him._

She doesn’t know how much time had passed before she heard Greer’s voice. “Kenna dear?”

She struggled to sit up and motioned for Greer to enter. “It’s nice to be able to see you one last time before I keel over.” Kenna emphasized the statement by collapsing back to her bed with another pained groan.

“Oh Kenna, don’t be so melodramatic." Greer paused, and gave her a sympathetic half-smile. "I do have bad news. The cook says they don’t have any chocolate. It’s not as well liked in France and they only import it for the most special events. Possibly for the coronation so that’s exciting?”

Kenna raised her head again to glare at Greer. Chocolate was by far the most important thing to help her survive when the monthly pains got especially terrible. The idea that they might possibly have it for a coronation that could happen God knows when did little to improve her mood.

“Sorry. I know that doesn’t actually do you any good now." Greer's face brightened as she thought of a solution. "Perhaps a stroll in the garden will help?”

 

When Kenna finally returned to her rooms at the end of the day, she was in a foul mood. Greer had been beyond annoying that day. She had forced Kenna to “get fresh air” and “push herself” and, horror of horrors, “smile dear- don’t let anyone suspect there is anything the matter”. It had been a terrible day and somehow Kenna felt worse than she had at the beginning of it.

She pushed the heavy door open and gasped. There was a large bath filled almost to the brim with warm water standing in the middle of the floor. And sitting beside it was a tall glass filled with-

“Cherise?”

The young girl was basically Bash’s personal servant and still not a favorite of Kenna’s. Not only did she always have a slightly impertinent edge to everything she said to Kenna but Kenna could never quite shake the knowledge that Bash and her had once had a relationship. She was pretty convinced Cherise still cared for him. “Yes my lady?”

“What is all this?” Kenna gestures to the set-up in the room.

“The lord Bash returned early and ordered this for you. Is it satisfactory?”

Kenna felt herself smiling sincerely for the first time that day. _Bash had done all of this? Clearly he knew a lot more than she gave him credit for._

“Is that sipping chocolate there?” She pointed to the glass by the tub.

“It is yes. I have no idea where he got it from. All I know is that he returned to the castle mid-afternoon all in a flurry for the cooks to have it made correctly. Will that be all, my lady?”

“Yes. No- wait. Did Bash say why he did all this?”

The girl’s look grew sour before she responded. “No. He did not. I personally would assume that it is because he seems quite taken with you. He was always so very much like his father... If that is all my Lady, then I have tasks to see to.” She bowed stiffly before marching out, letting the door thud loudly behind her.

Kenna didn’t mind. She didn’t call her back to reprimand her, she didn’t insure that Cherise should be given the worst household tasks until further notice and later, when she had clambered into bed beside Bash, warm and content, she didn’t even mention the girl's impertinence to him. She just slid closer and kissed his bare shoulder as both apology and gratitude. What need did she have to make Cherise’s life more difficult? What need would she ever have to be that petty and spiteful again?

_Bash is “quite taken” with me..._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't even know man. I have it all planned out, I'm just not happy with anything I write. But I felt like I needed to update so...


	10. You’d Think He’d Learn (Seriously. This is like the fifth time. It’s getting ridiculous and harder to recover from.)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bash is terrible at dealing with his feelings (what else is new) and Kenna is hiding a secret. So neither of them are exactly dealing with conflict well right now...

Ever since Kenna had caught Bash singing in the barn, she would not stop referencing it. Not directly, of course. No, she would just hum the tune he’d been singing under her breath, waiting until his face turned red, or he briefly stumbled. She’d lock him out of his chamber and insist every time that the password was some new folk song. She would come up behind him when he was already singing and join in until he broke off, sullen and silent. But this was really the last straw!

Francis had stopped him on his way to bed and mentioned that “perhaps Kenna and him would like to sing at the next banquet?” Bash had stared at him- half in mortification and half in disbelief- before turning on his heel without a word and marching to his rooms.

Kenna had both of Mary’s other ladies with her, but he didn't really care. Enough was enough. “Thank you for coming ladies.” He said as he physically steered the two women toward the door.

“Bash!” Kenna moved to stop him but he evaded her and guided her friends out the door before sealing it behind them, cutting off their promises to “talk later”. He took a deep breath and turned to face his wife, gearing himself for a fight.

“That was so rude Bash! Now I’ll have to-”

“Did you,” he cuts her off, his voice taking on the dangerous soft tone she says reminds her of his mother, “or did you not hint to Francis that we should sing publicly?”

She flushes guiltily. “Well, he brought it up first and then-”

“Kenna! Why did you have to say anything at all? Oh wait- I know! It's because you are a lonely child with nothing better to do than gossip about things that don't concern you!”

She gasps in hurt, but he’s hit his stride now and there is no stopping him. “God forbid that something between you and I might stay as something between you and I! No, no. Let's just share it with the whole court! You don't have enough shallow things to amuse yourself with so let's just share Bash’s embarrassing singing with the world! Maybe somebody will pay attention to poor, insignificant Kenna if she only has something interesting to say.”

It's ironic how arguments actually get worse the more you know someone, the more you care for them. Now that they know where to aim to cause the most damage, they can cause far deeper and lasting wounds than before. Now that they have begun to remove their armour, there is nothing to prevent his cruelty from piercing her. She has just recently shared with him how she spent her whole childhood doing anything and everything to force her father to notice her and how she's afraid she’ll never break free of the damaging habit. Now he has blatantly broken her trust in sharing that with him- a far worse crime than anything she has ever done.

They stand by the door, mere inches separating them- it feels like a chasm. He knows there is much more to his outburst than being embarrassed about singing and he's sure there is much more to her hurt than his careless words. She doesn't even cry or scream or shove him as per usual. She just sighs wearily and walks over to sink down in front of the obscenely cheery fire. “Get out,” she says in a voice that he knows because he has heard himself use it. It is devoid of hurt, devoid of anger- devoid of any emotion at all. It is the scariest voice in the world because it means that the owner of it no longer cares. It is the voice that has driven him from every single person in this court.

“I don't understand….” _… how I do this every time. I don't understand why I isolate everyone. I don't understand how in the world I’m supposed to stop doing something when I don't even know how I'm doing it._

“Well, there isn't really any point in saying anything, is there? I could tell you that I adore your voice and was only trying to prove to you that it wasn't something to be ashamed of. I could tell you that Francis mentioned it because everyone thinks we sound good together- since you do have a wonderful voice. I could tell you how that standing in the barn watching you was the moment I was finally able to admit to myself that I really might be in love with you. That when you sing, you're real and vulnerable, and it's very attractive, or that Francis says you haven't sung in years and that I thought it meant something that I was the one that was able to bring that back. I could say all those things. But you have made it abundantly clear that at the very best, I was wrong and hurt you deeply but more likely, I’m just a lonely gossip with nothing more meaningful to do with my time than ruin your life.”

“Kenna-” He’s not actually sure what he can say to any of that, but it doesn't matter because she drowns out his voice with her own anyway.

“I do not have it in me to fight today. I just cannot do this right now, okay? So,” she rises to her feet and points a shaking finger back at the door, “just. Get. Out.”

And that's not even the worst part. The worst part is that after all the years he spent alone, all the times he needed someone to force him to hear them, all the times she has taught him that love is about not giving up on someone even when "you're so angry you can't see straight", he still walks away. And he doesn't go back.


	11. Confrontation (If it was possible to avoid these forever, then this story would be over- but lucky for us, Kenna and Bash are victims of circumstance too)

It had been a week since Kenna had last seen Bash. She’d heard he’d gone back to sleeping in the barn, and was fairly certain that he was deliberately staying out in the woods just long enough so he wouldn’t have to eat with her. She didn’t mind; she didn’t want to see him.

She wasn’t even angry. She just hurt.

Kenna had been having a wonderful day before the letter came. Greer and Lola had come to her rooms and, for one of the very first times since Lola had borne a child, Greer’s heart had been broken, and Kenna had been manhandled into a marriage, they were going to spend the whole afternoon together- just young, naive, carefree girls once more. Kenna had been looking forward to the day for weeks.

She had turned to respond to a playful jibe from Greer as she’d opened the letter and she thought it must have been quite comical honestly how fast the smile must have fallen from her face.

The letter was brief and detached. He signed it with his title and addressed her as ‘Lady de Poitiers’. She had spent her entire life doing anything and everything to garner even a scrap of his attention, and now she had it solely- and she wanted anything but! There was a joke somewhere in there…

“Kenna?” Lola had half-risen in concern. “Is everything okay?”

She’d been about to answer when the door was flung open and Bash had come marching in.

It hadn’t even been a meaningful argument, layered with sub-context and double entendres. It had been a stupid argument- beyond stupid even. She should have realized that being too public with anything concerning Bash was a bad idea. He was a private man to begin with, and he had made it clear to her that he wanted their burgeoning relationship to remain as far from gossip and speculation as possible. She had made a mistake, she was in the wrong, and she was fully prepared to apologize. Yet somehow, when she opened her mouth to say sorry, what came out instead was her banishing Bash from his own rooms.

And then he’d listened to her- first time he does that and she doesn’t even mean it! And now everything was terrible- like the beginning of her marriage all over again! The whispered conversations that hushed at her entrance, the looks of pity from happy, happy Mary, and the tangible concern of Lola and Greer would be bad enough. But it wasn’t the beginning of the marriage. On the contrary, she had grown close to Bash, she had come to care for him, she might even love him. One thing was certain: she missed him. She needed him now more than ever; she needed to know that he was her family.

Her eyes strayed to the letter still lying on the desk where she’d left it. Should she respond? Would he even read it? Should she burn it or keep it, seeing as how it is the first and last letter she would ever get from him? She sighed as she sunk down onto the bed, then froze at the telltale creak of the chamber door. She whirled around to see Bash pause in the doorway, before dropping his head, refusing to meet her gaze as he shuffled in.

“Sorry. I thought you were out with your friends. I’m just grabbing a change of clothes.”

This was it. All she needed to do was apologize. She opened her mouth...

“That’s fine. I wasn’t feeling very well so I decided not to go into town with them.”

Well, that settled it. Call Nostradamus. Her mouth had a mind of its own.

“You’re not feeling well? What’s wrong?” His tone was laced with genuine concern and he even looked up from his clothes chest.

“No! It’s nothing. I just… I’m very tired. I don’t sleep well lately.” She forced herself to meet his eyes.

He didn’t look away, as she’d expected. In fact, his eyes softened. “Me neither.”

_I have to stop underestimating him.  
_

She gathered all her courage before patting the spot on the bed beside her. “Then come sleep with me. I mean, not sleep! Just… sleep?”

Bash smirked, but he did cross the room to lay down- albeit slightly stiffly- on the bed. She held her breath as she carefully lowered herself beside him and released it in thinly concealed relief when his arm curled around her.

 

She wasn’t sure how much time had passed when she next blinked open her eyes. She could tell by his breathing that Bash wasn’t asleep but he hadn’t moved, so she didn’t either.

The letter (still lying innocently on the desk) caught her eye, and she fought back the hurt and fear that rose at the sight.

“Bash?”

“Mmm?”

“What does taking your name really mean for me? Like, what does it convey?”

She felt him stiffen and cursed inwardly. If only her sentient mouth would just apologize!

“Not like-”

“Really?” He pulled away from her as he sat up abruptly and ran his hands agitatedly through his hair. “We’re doing this again? Oh my God Kenna… nothing! Okay? It conveys nothing. I have nothing. I am nothing. You’ve been saddled with the very worst husband in the whole of France!”

“Oh shut up. I don’t have the time and patience for your pity parties right now! That is _obviously_ not what I am asking. I have made it quite clear that I don’t view you as worthless. I just want to know where I stand now, preferably without having to assuage your every doubt and fear!”

“And you thought the best time to ask was now? Out of all the times in the world, you thought you’d go with this one and fracture our tentative peace? You drive me crazy Kenna! I don’t even understand what is going through your head when you decide to do something like this.”

“No.” She stood and marched to the desk, flinging the letter back at his seated form on the bed. “I thought the best time to ask was after I had been disowned. Considering your name is all I have now.” She turned to march stiffly from the room, her pride still mostly intact.

But she stopped as she was crossing the threshold, half in compliance and half in shock. She must have imagined him saying it or maybe someone else did. He would never actually.... Her thoughts halted as he repeated himself, clearer this time and unmistakably him.

“Please don’t go.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am slowly but surely hammering this out. It's getting close to the ending- whatever semblance that may take. Thanks so much for all the compliments and encouragements- they really do make it easier. Hope you enjoyed this installment. More on the way.


	12. Discussion (OR they are both just growing up... which is a nicer thought- let's go with that one)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> See title ;)

Bash could feel panic steadily rising as Kenna turned back to face him. Her arms were crossed, one eyebrow was raised in question, and her eyes were guarded. But she had turned. Now it was his turn.

But Bash really wasn’t cut out for this sort of thing. He didn’t like speeches, or being “honest about his feelings”- or talking about feelings at all. Somehow, though, he knew that if he let her walk away this time, he was gonna lose her forever. And he was surprised to find that the thought terrified him. So he stopped her.

“What?” Kenna had a hip jutted out now, one foot tapping impatiently against the cobblestones.

“I didn’t know-”

“That’s not the point! You shouldn’t have to know. There should come a point where you just trust me- that I care about you! Frankly, Bash, I’m getting a little tired of this. I feel like I’m constantly defending my every action to you and I shouldn’t have to. And why? _Because_ you should trust me. So you not knowing isn’t an excuse. Try again.”

 _Okay, that was… a lot._ But she was still here.

Bash fixed his eyes on the stone floor and took a deep breath. “You’re right, Kenna, I-”

“Come again?”

“You’re… right?” Bash looked up in confusion.

“One more time?” Kenna met his eyes then, and he saw that they were twinkling mischievously.

Bash smiled as he repeated the words, over-enunciating each syllable. “You. Are. Right.”

Kenna swooned into the nearest chair. “Ohhhh my heaaaarrrtt!”

Bash rolled his eyes. “Are you done now? Cause I have a whole speech planned.”

Kenna sat up eagerly. “Oooh! Sebastian has a speech! Well, go ahead then.” She propped her head in her hands and fixed her eyes on him.

Bash dropped his own back to the floor and cleared his suddenly dry throat.

“I’m pretty terrible at relationships- you know this. Honestly, they scare me. I didn’t ask for this marriage and I don’t know how to do this marriage and... it scares me. Let me apologize now- because I’m gonna screw this up again and again. But don’t give up on me. I’d rather fumble my way through a scary relationship with you then be completely comfortable and without you. So… yeah.”

He lifted his head to look at her. She had risen from the chair and was standing about a foot away from him with her head cocked to one side. “And?”

“And?” Bash repeated confusedly.

“And?” She said more insistently.

“I’m sorry?”

“And?”

“I’m an idiot?”

“And?”

“You matter very much to me?”

“ _And?”_

Bash felt a smile cross his face as he finally understood what she was looking for. “You’re right.”

Kenna grinned at him. “I am, aren’t I? Now come here, you… or do I have to do all the work?”

Bash crossed the space in two steps and pulled her into his arms. “You really are ridiculous, you know that?”

“Mmm,” she murmured noncommittally as she leaned her head up to press kisses to his jaw.

“And also,” he stepped back to look her in the eyes, “as far as my name goes: whatever I can give you, I will. You won’t be alone, okay? I will look after you. I’m sorry Kenna. I really am. Believe me, I know what it’s like to feel as if you have nobody in the world. But know that you have me- and that you always will.”

“Bash!” Kenna suddenly shoved him away and turned to the side, blinking her eyes rapidly.

“What?” He asks, feeling bewildered for the third time in this conversation.

“After a couple fights, then they make-up, and after they make-up, they have wonderful and hot make-up sex! The man does not give heartfelt speeches and make the girl cry! That is the exact opposite of hot!”

She sighed and turned back to whack him lightly on the chest. “Good Lord Bash, don’t you know _anything?_ ”

He chuckled and stepped close to her again, leaning down to press his lips against hers for a brief moment. “I really don’t. But I’m willing to learn. And that’s gotta count for something, right?”

She giggled and caught his hand, pulling him with her toward the bed. “Lucky for you, you dolt, it really does.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry. I know this has been way too long... but I will finish this. One way or another, it will be completed. Thanks for sticking with me.  
> Little nod to the idiocy that is the ending of these two- it's amazing what simple, honest conversation can solve :/


	13. Changes (Including those that are traumatizing, confusing, and most importantly: misinterpreted)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bash tries to do something nice. Kenna doesn't realize this. (Because relationships are confusing and hard and why should these two be free of miscommunication?)

As Kenna was pulled steadily from the depths of sleep, she blindly felt about the space beside her in the bed, finding it still warm but empty. With this knowledge, she flung an arm over her eyes in anticipation of the bright beam of light that would soon come piercing from the open door Bash never remembered to close.

Only it didn’t. She lay there like an idiot for heaven knows how long, and there was no blinding glare, no golden beam- not even a glimmer. Maybe it was raining?

Kenna tentatively poked a foot out from the bed, praying she wouldn’t step in any manure that Bash consistently tracked in from the barn. Finding none, she placed her foot onto the cold cobblestones, and stood up, looking for any of the many coats Bash left lying on every article of furniture in their small chambers.

She couldn’t find anything, though. In fact, the whole place looked as clean and organized as it had when she had half grumpily tidied it the night before AND the door was shut tightly.

She whirled around, expecting to see Bash sprawled out in bed still, despite knowing that he wasn’t. And when she looked back at the orderly chamber, she noticed that his boots were caked with dried manure and mud as usual, only they were at the door instead of being strewn about the chamber. She looked back at the bed again stupidly, just now noticing that it was neatly made, rather than rumpled and creased as usual.

_What in the world is going on?_

Kenna marched to the door and called for Cherise. When the girl finally appeared, she was rubbing sleep from her eyes and grimacing at the early morning light. “My lady? Is everything okay? You are up so early…” Her voice trailed off, a tinge of mild annoyance in it.

It really was early for Kenna, but there was no way she was getting back to sleep now. “Have you been to our rooms this morning? Tidying or whatever?”

Cherise gave her a bewildered and mildly scornful look. “No… I have been asleep. You normally aren’t up for another two hours and even when you are, you forbade me from tidying in your chambers anymore since I “do it wrong and only encourage Bash’s savage ways”.” Cherise's finger quotes were bordering on impertinence as usual, but Kenna was so preoccupied that she barely noticed. “Look at this!” She grabbed the young maid's arm and dragged her into the room. “Look at this room!”

“Um…” Cherise looked around confusedly. “It looks nice?”

“Exactly! There are no rumpled clothes, no disorganized books, no mud or much worse clumps on the floor! And the bed is half-made! And the door is closed!”

Cherise looked between Kenna and the obviously open door nervously. “Um... do you want me to call someone for you, Lady Kenna?”

Kenna sighed in exasperation. “Yes, that is probably the best thing to do. Lady Greer is easiest.”

The poor maid fairly ran from the room, and Kenna went to get ready for the day. She could barely focus though, with every thing that she found in the correct place and the fresh flowers that graced her dressing table. By the time Greer came worriedly tapping at the still open door, Kenna was in a wild state.

“Look at this room! It’s neat and clean and it smells good and there are flowers and his smelly boots are by the door and his half of the bed is made and the clothes are put away and the door was closed and also I’m fairly certain the books are actually straighter than they were last night and I am very concerned Greer!”

Greer stepped forward hesitantly and gently guided Kenna to sit down with her on the half-made bed. “Yeah... so am I, Kenna. Why don’t you start from the beginning?”

But when Kenna finally made Greer understand what was so distressing, Greer seemed less upset than she should be. In fact, she didn’t seem perturbed at all. “And what is the problem here, Kenna? I am not seeing it.”

“The _problem_ Greer is that my husband has obviously been taken over by the spirits from his woods _or_ he wants something from me _or_ he did something really bad _or_ he’s planning on leaving me!”

“Those are your only options?”

“Well, yeah! What else could it be?”

“Probably leaving you then.”

“Greer!!” Kenna gaped at her friend.

“Well, it’s really the only one that makes sense.” Greer ticked off the reasons on her fingers. “He’s way too knowledgeable concerning the woods to be possessed now. What could he possibly want from you? If he did something bad, he would just hide out in the barn as evidenced by previous interactions. So, if those are your only options, then it’s most likely that he is leaving you.”

Greer rose from the bed and walked toward the door, leaving behind an open mouthed Kenna. “However,” she threw back over her shoulder, “my guess is that he is just being thoughtful. You should try it sometime.” With that final barb, she fairly waltzed away!

Being thoughtful? If that was true, then she would need to reciprocate….

 

It was early evening by the time Kenna even got started on her plan. It had been very difficult to find pants and even harder to find a way to keep Bash’s boots from falling off her feet. But here she was, in the… lovely barn with the... marvelous horses.

Only, it turned out that it was way harder than it looked to do all the barn things. When her/ his boot got caught in the muck for the umpteenth time, she was fed up. Yanking her foot as hard as she could, she accidentally detached herself from said boot and went careening across the barn until she was stopped by a solid arm across her chest. “Kenna?”

It was Bash.

“Oh! Hey. I am, um, doing… I have no idea what I am doing.”

“Clearly.” He said dryly, looking her up and down. “Okay. Help me out here, then. What are you trying to do?”

“Your barn chores…”

Bash’s cheek twitched in the sign she recognized as a prelude to laughter.

“Don’t laugh at me!! I have watched you do them many times before…” Her voice trailed off sullenly.

“And so that qualifies you to do them yourself?” The laughter was in his voice now. “Why would you even want to?”

“I was trying to be thoughtful! But clearly, I made a mistake in thinking that you could appreciate that!” With a huff, she shoved away and marched off.

Or tried to. She had forgotten about her lack of footwear and had only taken two steps when she felt something wet squishing between her toes. She froze for a moment, in the middle of the barn, fighting back tears of disgust and mortification and willing herself not to scream.

She heard a soft chuckle from behind her, before she was lifted up and perched on some barrels against the wall. “It’s just mud if that helps.” Bash said, as he ran a rag under the nearby spigot. He gently cleaned off her toes, before retrieving her boot and helping her back into it. He caught her when she tried to leave again, though. “Is this about the clean room which you frightened Cherise about this morning?”

Kenna sighed. “Greer said that maybe you were trying to be thoughtful and make a couple changes for me. So I thought I could make some changes for you, too. Only I can’t! Because I am useless and a little spoiled and I don’t LIKE barns Bash! Okay? I am sorry, but I don’t! I only like them when you are here telling me stories, and even then I would rather we do it over crumpets in front of a roaring fire.”

“I know! That’s why I did it!” He interrupts her speech loudly.

Kenna stares at him blankly. “I don’t understand…”

“It occurred to me just last night that you don’t like barns and yet you meet me here every night. It’s become my favorite part of the day, honestly. I ride home in anticipation because for the first time, someone here is waiting for me and just me. I appreciate it, and so I thought I could make more of an effort to meet you in a sense. I like my horses and I am not gonna stop coming out here, but I can tidy up behind me and leave my boots at the door. In the same way, I don’t expect or even want you to change who you are, but you meet me where I am at, and I appreciate that. I just want to make more of an effort to do the same for you.” He stops then and looks up at her teasingly. “As much as I loved the show tonight, I prefer you perched on the step in your ridiculous brocade gowns and slippers and not in tears.”

“Thank goodness!” She breathes out in relief, before clambering off the barrel.

"How about you change and meet me back here then, okay?"

"Okay." She doesn't leave though, instead catching his arm and pulling him back to her. “Wait. Bash…”

"Yeah?" He looks down at her with those blue eyes, always open to her now, and frames her smooth face with his rough hands.

She finds that she can't quite say what she wants to, though. So instead she just laughs and says, "Maybe we should switch boots first?"

And as he grins and lifts her onto the barrels again, the feeling passes and she thinks she must have imagined the look in his eyes and resolves to ignore the thud of her treacherous heart.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hoping to get this done right away here. Not much left now...


	14. Eavesdropping (Yes really. And completely deliberately. Not his fault either, though- she is a bad influence on him)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hee hee. Throwback to chapter 1... good times right? ;)

“I don’t understand what you are asking here, Mary. I already know that the king is quite irretrievably mad.” Bash hissed the words at her, using Gypsy (patiently waiting to be unsaddled) as a shield. Despite the fact that the two were in a secluded corner of the barn and Francis was supposedly away with the king for the day, he wasn’t taking any chances.

“I am asking whether you think this madness could be dangerous.”

Bash just looked at Mary in astonishment for a moment. “I think it has been made painfully clear how dangerous it is!”

“I know, I know!” Mary whirled away and began anxiously pacing. “But what can we do?”

Bash began to unsaddle Gypsy and rub her down, wishing the confusing conversation would just end honestly. He wanted to see Kenna, and he really wanted to talk to their new little charge. “Um, nothing? We can do nothing. He is still the king and even you are by no means a permanent fixture of his court… and you already know this, so what is really going on here?”

Mary deflated suddenly. “I don’t know Bash, I just… everything is wrong. I... I wanna know if it’s okay to break a promise to yourself if it could save a life- millions of lives!”

“You’re asking if good intentions cancel bad actions?”

“Yes!” Mary stopped pacing and looked up at him hopefully.

Bash snorted aloud. “Heck if I know. But, considering all that you and I have done, we better pray that that’s how it works.”

He finished taking care of Gypsy and fell in step with Mary as they headed back toward the castle. “What specifically are you referring to in this case?”

Mary didn't answer for a moment. “... I don’t think I should tell you. That seems the safest option.”

Bash froze in the middle of opening the side door for her. “Safest? What? Mary, you’re not- I mean you’re not even considering- you couldn’t even consider-”

She shoved past him through the half open door. “This conversation is over Bash. I should never have said anything. I will see you tonight?”

“What’s tonight?” Bash decided to let it go. He had enough on his plate without dwelling on his assumptions about Mary’s questions. He must be wrong about it, anyway. She would never….

She turned back toward him at his query. “The banquet? The family banquet?”

“Those do not include Sebastian, Mary.” Queen Catherine came strolling around the corner, derisively answering the question for him, accompanied by a dismissive wave in his general direction.”

“Oh… I am so sorry… I didn’t, I mean, I did not know…” Mary stammered apologetically, though whom she was apologizing to, he didn’t know- or particularly care.”

“That is fine. Good day your Majesties.” He bowed stiffly and strode in a random direction, determined to get away from Mary’s pity and Catherine’s indifference- not sure which one was worse.

However, it was the opposite direction that he wanted to go in. Kenna and Pascal were in the other direction. So, rather than navigate through the surrounding corridors and nobles, he cautiously made his way back from where he had come. Certainly, they must be gone now, right? What else was there to talk about? He was surprised though, to hear the echoes of conversation emanating toward him. And more importantly… was that Kenna’s voice?

He pressed his back to the wall and craned his ear toward the voices, thinking briefly how Kenna had clearly rubbed off on him.

“How exactly is this conversation any of your concern, Lady Kenna?” That was definitely Catherine’s voice.

“Kenna, I really don’t think…” Mary spoke at about the same time.

Kenna interrupted them both. “Have I said anything that is not true? You will all have your private, elite little dinner and discuss all you need to be fixed and solved and directly following that, you will find Bash to fix and solve all of that which he was not privileged enough to hear in the first place! And he will still give it his best shot! You know why? Because family isn’t something that is flexible to him, only to be acknowledged when it is convenient.”

“Bash will do it because it is his duty as our subject. And let’s not act as if he hasn’t profited from his association with us either,” Catherine said confidently.

_When has that ever happened?_

Kenna echoed his thoughts. “Name one time when that has happened!”

“Oh, for God’s sake!" Catherine sighed. "He was almost made king!”

“Yes, how profitable was it for him to be manhandled into something he never even wanted to help save Francis’ life- _your_ son- and be rewarded for it with peril and heartache at each turn.” Kenna’s tone, dripping with sarcasm, faded away. In its place was a dead silence. Bash held his breath, not daring to move a muscle.

It was Mary’s voice that pierced the stillness. “I agree with Kenna.”

“Mary!” Catherine began speaking, but Mary raised her voice to talk over her.

“Face it Catherine. We do owe Bash more than we can ever repay, and we will just enlist his services after the fact anyway. Why not just have him attend the banquet in the first place?”

“I’m not asking you to give him a throne, Queen Catherine- he doesn’t even want one. I’m just asking for you to include him in your dinner plans. Which, as has been previously mentioned, is far less than he deserves anyway.” Kenna’s tone had softened and become much more respectful, now that Mary was on her side.

Catherine sighed. “Fine. Have it your way. I really do not care that much. Now, if you will excuse me, I will need to inform the kitchen that we have another joining us this evening.”

As the sound of her footsteps died off, Mary spoke again. “I will ask Francis to look into Bash’s affairs; as long as I am living, he shall be taken care of. You were right. I owe him much.”

Kenna didn't answer for a moment, and when she did, her tone was stiff. “Thank you.” The more Kenna learned of the interactions surrounding him and Mary, the more she struggled with the way she felt Mary, her friend and queen, had "used you abominably!" 

As Mary walked away, a deep silence reigned over the little used corridors once more.

Kenna broke it. “Are you mad at me?”

Bash jumped in surprise. “How did you know I was there?” He came around the corner, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly.

“You can’t fool one as experienced in the art of eavesdropping and gossip as I.” Kenna’s tone took on a teasing lilt at his obvious discomfort. Then she grinned at his now slightly awed look, “Actually, I just saw you like four seconds ago. I’m assuming that you heard the whole conversation. Did you?”

“I did.”

It was silent again.

Kenna wasn’t exactly renowned for her patience, though. “So?” She nudged him with her hip, “Are you mad?”

Bash chuckled. “No. I mean, you didn’t have to do that, but I appreciate the underlying sentiments.”

“Oh please. I just wanted one night’s peace from your savage ways. The last thing we need is to scare Pascal again.”

“Oh, I see. Purely selfish motivations.”

“Exactly!” She bumped his hip again. “Now I need to get back to him before he worries too much. We will see you later?”

“Yeah. I will need to get ready for this banquet after all. And Kenna?”

She turned to look up at him. Her tone was light and a little teasing again, “Yes Sebastian?”

He looked down into her face, suddenly overwhelmed by everything about her: her smiling eyes, her nose that was crinkled slightly in curiosity, her crooked smile, her perfectly pinned coiffure and elaborate, probably stupidly expensive gown.

Her joking face faded away, replaced by something softer and deeper and unguarded all at the same time.

Somewhere deep inside of him, he has the words his brain is trying to form. But he can’t find them- not here and now. So instead he bends down and kisses her with everything he has, and hopes that somehow she has understood.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Third last chapter. We are in the final stages now...


	15. An Almost Proclamation (She thinks. She's not actually sure, but she's daring to hope it)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kenna debates over what to do with Pascal. Bash helps- only he's being a little sneaky sneakerton and not planning to leave with her to their new home despite what he says, so I didn't give him too many good moments ;)

    “I gotta say… I never imagined I would find you gazing tenderly down at a little boy while a package from the dressmakers sits unopened on the table.”

    Kenna startled out of the daze she was in to find that a, she had been dreamily staring down at Pascal while he slept and b, Bash was sitting down at the table on which an unopened package sat, craning his head around said package to stare at her bemusedly.

    “For your information, I am taking that package to our new home this evening. It does not need to be opened.”

    “Ah. Thinking ahead as always.”

    “You know,” she came around the table to perch in front of him, crossing her legs at the ankles and placing her slippered feet in his lap, “if I didn’t know you better, I might think you were making fun of me.”

    “Me? Mock you? Never!” Bash teased, running his fingers steadily up her legs.

    “Bash!” Kenna yanked her feet away from him. “What are you doing?”

    “Well, nothing anymore.” He pouted a bit before standing up and stepping towards her. “I have a bit of free time, and, as you do not appear to be occupied…”

    “Bash seriously!” She shoved him back a step and hopped off the table, darting out of his reach. “Pascal is sleeping right there!”

    “Oh… right.” Bash grimaced. “Why is he here anyways?”

    Kenna jerked away suddenly. “I don’t know! Why are you acting like it’s my fault? Maybe if you weren’t bringing home small children from the woods we wouldn’t be in this mess, so if it’s anyone’s fault, it’s yours!” Kenna snapped the words at him, before stalking away.

    It must be said that, while Bash was quite confused at the sudden turn in the conversation, he recovered nicely. He caught her hand before she could get far, and gently turned her to face him. “Hey…” He waited until she looked up to continue. “What’s really the problem here?”

    Kenna bit her lip and took a deep breath. “I just… I don’t know how to do this. Contrary to most male opinions, there’s not exactly a class on how to look after a child. Nor is it as if I have a wealth of examples to model off of. I’m gonna mess this up, I know it, but yet there’s still a part of me that wants to do it anyways, though why I think I would be any good at it is beyond me. And if I’m truly honest… I’m just scared. I let you take all the blame for being dysfunctional in relationships, but truthfully I’m no better. Pascal scares me. _You_ scare me. I’ve never had a family situation work out for me before, and it scares me to even try at one, because it hurts even more than usual when you actually cared in the first place….”

    Her voice trailed away, and she looked away again. Bash remained silent for a while. He twined his arms around her and pulled the back of her to rest against the front of him, while they both silently gazed at the small figure curled up on their bed. Finally, he spoke.

           “‘Thou, O Love, the traitor art

             Tender once as any may

             Then the wielder of the dart

             That is pointed but to slay’”

    She twisted in his arms to look up at him. “That was a little too poetic for you,” she teased. “What’s it from?”

    “I have no idea actually. My mother used to quote it grimly… usually whenever Henry had really upset her. She used to tell me that ‘love is the ultimate traitor, Sebastian- take care that you are never its victim’. It meant nothing to me for many years. Then, Mary came… and she none too gently reminded me of it.”

    Kenna turned fully and snuggled into his arms as he continued.

    “We really are quite a pair, Kenna, you and I. We come from such different worlds and yet we both have never really felt like we were part of a family. We both understand traitorous love quite well. Francis, the closest thing I have to a real family, sent me into exile for love- believe me, I know _just_ how traitorous love can be.”

    Kenna tightened her arms around him. “Oh Bash….” she murmured.

    He laughed a little. “I'm not looking for pity here. I guess my point is just that if you think that I have any of the answers… well, I hate to disappoint you.” He suddenly grabbed her shoulders and stepped back to hold her at arm’s length and look into her eyes. “I am not going to tell you what to do with Pascal, Kenna. I don’t even know what the “right” thing to do is. All I can tell you is that I have lived most of my life with little love in it. It’s only just recently that I have begun to find that with you. And, though love may be “the wielder of the dart”, I wouldn’t trade what we have for a safe but loveless existence for even a moment.”

    Kenna’s heart pounded in her ears. Was he telling her that he loved her? Did she even return the sentiment? She instantly knew the answer. Of course she did... she'd been falling for him for a long time now. She opened her mouth to tell him so, though how she had no clue, when he gave her a wry grin and continued speaking, oblivious to her impending confessions.

    “I mean, even Catherine’s most despicable actions are motivated by what I honestly believe is a genuine love for her son and her country.”

    “And herself,” Kenna couldn’t resist quipping.

    Bash chuckled as he let her go. “Well, okay, there might be some truth to that.” He headed towards the door. “Anyway, I’m afraid my bit of time is up. But I will see you soon.”

    With little flourish, he was gone, and all the words Kenna had been about to say died on her tongue. She turned back to the bed and Pascal’s still sleeping form. She still had no idea what she would or should do with him. She wore a smile as she continued her internal debate on the issue now, though, because there was one thing that she was sure of: she loved Sebastian de Poitiers, and even better, he might just love her too.

    In light of that, her insecurities and fears didn’t seem to matter much anymore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Such fluff. Ridiculous. And I'm sure the next one will be even worse. Speaking of which...  
> AHH! Second last chapter you guys! One left. Thank you so much for all the feedback I have had so far. I have had a ball writing this and the encouragements, suggestions and funny comments from you all made it that much more fun, so thanks. :)  
> In case you are wondering, Bash actually quotes the opening stanza of Christine de Pizan's Ballad VI. She was an Italian French author, who served in the court of Charles VI. Not sure how farfetched it is that Diane got her hands on some of her writings, but I'm going with it.


	16. Miracles (Specifically, those that bitter disillusion has robbed him of)

“The king is dead; long live the king! The king is dead; long live the king! The king is dead; long live the king!”

Bash wasn’t sure if the words were still being shouted in every corner of the castle, or if they were just permanently etched into his eardrums. Perhaps this whole day was permanently etched into him. Perhaps it would remain a part of him for the rest of his life. Perhaps someday he might even be able to feel it.

His preoccupation with the Darkness had kept him from having a proper sleep in far too long; the only thing that had kept him going was adrenaline… adrenaline and fear. First for his wife who somewhere along the way he had fallen undeniably in love with, then for his father who, despite being a poor one, was the only one he had, and then for Francis. Francis who was his dearest friend in the world. Francis who called him brother. Francis who hadn’t even let him kneel, rushing toward him instead and catching him in a desperate hug. Francis who he now owed his allegiance to. Francis who somehow owed him everything and nothing at the same time.

Bash sighed heavily, willing away the pang that had taken up residence in his heart. How had everything suddenly gotten so complicated? Was there ever going to be a time when his life felt stable? Would his world ever feel more solid than glass- beautiful maybe, but fragile, breakable… unfixable…

“Bash.” Kenna’s voice pierced through the melancholy fog of his mind the way it always did as she crossed the deserted parapet to lay a comforting hand on his arm. “I’m so sorry about your father.”

Was she? Did she even know how sorry she should be? Had she heard that his father had made no provision for him, that he was now little more than a guest at French court, terrifyingly dependent on Francis’ favor? Had she even yet realized how easy it would be to have their sham marriage dissolved now that Henry’s insanity no longer hung over them like a thunder cloud? He had a feeling she had.

Well, he would make it easy on her. He took a deep breath before turning to face her, prepared to give her a way out, acutely aware that he is- more than ever- not what she wanted, and ironically desperate now to give her everything she does want. “I don’t know what my place is here anymore-”

She cuts him off before he can even finish- “Your place is with me.”

“No, I meant-”

“I know what you meant. But you don’t need your father’s name or to slay every dragon to be worth something. You’ve done enough. You _are_ enough. Now you deserve some happiness of your own.”

Months later, he will lie in his bed and think of this moment. He will wonder if somehow she did know exactly what he meant. If she had really understood him well enough that she searched his eyes and saw every insecurity that just refused to die and found the perfect words to say to allay his every fear. If she had truly realized what exactly she was signing up for and everything that the simple words meant to him, the way that they seemed to soothe every hurt and raw spot in his heart like balm. He will roll over and bury his face in his pillow, praying that she did not, praying that the fact she seemed to say the exact right words in that moment was just fate screwing with him again, because if not, then maybe it was all his fault after all, and he honestly doesn’t know how to cope with that.

But in the moment, gazing at her honest and vulnerable eyes, he isn’t thinking anything beyond the simple reality that he knew in the very fibers of his being back then. “I think I’ve found it in you. I love you.”

He will never be able to describe the look she gives him or how the way that she responds makes him feel. She says “I love you too”. But she says it as if it is a certainty, long confirmed, as if she has never once looked back, as if she never will.

Months later, he will not allow himself to remember this part often, because it brings an ache to his heart. But even months later, he will still realize that nobody has ever said those words to him like that before. Nobody has ever stated their devotion to him as if it were simple fact; nobody has ever made him feel like there was no contingency plan to their love. The irony of that will bring a bitter smile to his face, and send him off in search of wine

But in the moment… “What a miracle.” In the moment, he believes her. In the moment, he believes they are capable of anything. In the moment, he believes that maybe the risk of love’s pointed dart is worth everything. In the moment, he pulls her close and buries his face in her hair, and for just half a minute, he is content, and he believes.

Months later, he will grimace at the thought and take another swig of whatever alcohol he was able to find. Or, if he’s already fairly drunk, he’ll laugh at his own naivety. And if he wasn’t able to find anything at all, he will close his eyes against the now intensified ache and desperately try not to _drown_ in his regret for that moment: the last time that he believed in miracles.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my gosh, you guys! It's done!! I can't believe I finished. This last chapter was awful to write. I wanted to end it happy, but no matter what I did, it insisted on being sad and grumbly grumpish. Maybe if the relationship hadn't been so lame on the show.... (Looking at you screen writers) :/
> 
> Oh well, this is what you get. Thank you so much for all the comments and kudos! I have had so much fun writing this and you guys were a huge part of why.
> 
> But enough of that- you got your thank you's last chapter. What I am wondering is if you guys have any suggestions for what I should write next or about what or who or literally anything. I want to keep writing but the old proverbial well is proverbially dry.
> 
> Thank you again, and I hope you enjoyed 'It's The Little Things'.


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